Alliances Read online

  Contents

  Alliances

  Copyright

  Other Books in the Razia Series

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Biography

  Alliances

  Book 2 of the Razia Series

  S. Usher Evans

  Line-editing by Regina West

  Copyright © 2015 Sun's Golden Ray Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1311961495

  Smashwords edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Razia Series

  Double Life

  Alliances

  Conviction

  Fusion

  Beginnings, a Razia Novella

  The Razia Short Story Collection

  Available now for eBook and paperback

  DEDICATION

  To Valerie

  For always checking my eyebrows

  For keeping my head above the water

  And for being the sister I never had

  CHAPTER ONE

  The room was dark, with a single, dingy lamp hanging over a table where three men sat, each holding a hand of cards. They said little, except for the occasional grunt or movement to tap their grungy mini-computers to up their ante. The first sighed and rubbed the scruff around his chin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

  "You hear that Llendo is running for re-election?" he said, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

  "What else is new?" The short, squatty man and whose toes barely brushed the floor, threw a few chips into the virtual pile using his mini-computer. "The guy’s a puppet. There ain’t nothin’ that comes out of his mouth that ain’t been sent through the ringer about a million times."

  The other two men chuckled and shuffled around their cards. The third man, with a long face and sallow complexion, pulled two more cards for his own hand and shuffled them together and apart again.

  "But who else is there to vote for?" he asked, counting his cards and stacking them together again.

  "That general? You know that buffoon Peate works for him. He ain't getting my vote until I know he's gonna play along."

  The second shrugged and said, "Nobody’d vote for him in a million years."

  "You and your millions." The third rolled his eyes. "Everything you say has been done a million times."

  "Bah, can it," the first barked. "And hurry up and make your move."

  "I'm taking my time. Don't want to get fleeced again," the third said. "You're all a bunch of crooks."

  "Takes one to know one." The second man peered at his cards through a pair of thick glasses, hunched over.

  "I am retired," the first man said, sitting back and taking a long drag of his cigarette. "None of that piracy crap for me anymore. Getting too dangerous for me."

  "Gonna break a nail?" the second snorted. "Bad enough you got that girl. Whatsherface."

  "I hear she's doing all right," the third said. "Kidnapped Jukin Peate's brother and held him for ransom last year."

  "And what's she done since then?" the second said.

  "More than you've done."

  "I'm just saying, it's unnatural to have a woman out with the men," the first said. He paused for a moment and began to smile. "Although I can't say I hate seeing her scamper around '882."

  "Shame she doesn't wear tighter pants," the second said. "I seen pictures. She wears these baggy things. I bet if she wore something that made her look like a girl, she wouldn't even have to fight nobody."

  "She could come capture me any day of the week. I don't care what she looks like," the third said. "I'd lay down and let her do whatever she wanted to me."

  "Care to test that theory?"

  The three glanced up sharply at the sound of a distinctly female voice in the doorway.

  "Hey, hey," the first man said, standing up. "We don't want no trouble. We're retired here, lady."

  "You are," Razia said, stepping into the light with a smirk on her face. She turned her eyes on the third man in the room. "He isn't."

  ***

  Razia kicked open the door and dusty light flooded the back hall. Her bounty was strapped to her trusty floating canvas, an angry scowl on his sallow face. With a proud smile, she drug him out into the open bar, already filled with pirates and other patrons with their attentions on their mini-computers. They didn't bother to look up at her, even as she paraded her hard-earned bounty by three of them.

  They had ignored her when she walked into the bar as well, ignored her when she tried to wheedle information from the bartender about the back-room poker game.

  "Thanks a lot," she said to him, as if he had been an integral part of her bounty capture. He grumbled something and busied himself. Razia glared at him before sulking into the dusty air of the desert planet D-882, headed towards the bounty office.

  Razia, otherwise known as Lyssa Peate, was twenty-two years old, and a member of one of the four pirate crime syndicates, known as webs. While some pirates hijacked transporters and lifted antiques from rich houses, Razia's primary focus was capturing pirates in rival webs as a bounty hunter. Piracy was a game; thanks to hefty payments to the Universal Police and other political forces, a captured pirate would spend just one night in jail, returning to the streets with a zeroed out bounty. As a bounty hunter, Razia's bounty was primarily funded by other pirates who wished to see her off the streets—a sign of respect.

  But eight months after gaining her full-fledged membership in Dissident's web, she was still considered something of a joke and her bounty hadn't moved a single credit. To be honest, the more people knew her name, the worse it had become.

  But at the end of the day, she was still bounty hunting the universe's most wanted pirates, so she couldn't complain too much.

  She picked her conquests strategically, only hunting the trickiest and most elusive pirates, ones that took more time and effort than other bounty hunters were willing to put in. She felt it made her stand out from the rest of the bounty hunters and pirates, and hoped it would draw more attention to her talents instead of her gender.

  Her recent capture was no different. Guido Tedesco stole some very expensive material and suddenly found himself the fifteenth most wanted person in the universe. Once he realized his mistake, he went into hiding and hadn't been seen for a few weeks, waiting for his bounty to drop down to a reasonable number.

  Well, now he wasn't even on the most wanted list, she mused as she walked out of the bounty office about an hour later. Tedesco had netted a cool thirteen million credits to her Razia bank account, now at a healthy size. It was a far cry from when she was struggling to make ends meet, dashing across the universe to excavate planets as a Deep Space Exploration scientist and then hunt the universe's least wanted pirates on D-882. Now, things were finally settling between the two halves of her life.

  Her mini-computer buzzed at her hip, and she eagerly pulled it
out. It was just a marketing message. Out of habit, she checked her missed calls and other messages, just to see if she'd missed anything in the few minutes since she last looked at it.

  She hoped the buzzing was a message from her little brother Vel, her former intern who had returned to school full time over a universal month ago since his new semester started. He was excited to go, as he had spent seven months following her around on bounty captures and the occasional planet excavation. He said he missed his friends, and his normal life as a student.

  She wondered if he missed her, too.

  To distract herself from that very annoying thought, she turned to the pirate news:

  She rolled her eyes. Sage had changed the photo on his wanted poster. For the fifteenth time this month, it seemed. Now he was just showing off.

  Like clockwork, her mini-computer lit up with Teon’s face. He was a year or so older than she, with shaggy blond hair and lively green eyes. With an annoyed sigh, she answered the call.

  "You got him, right?" he asked.

  "Yep," she nodded. "Just turned him in."

  "That's good, because I was just calling to tell you that I—"

  "Yeah, yeah, I saw it," Razia said with a smirk. "Still even."

  They’d been playing this game for weeks. Not even an hour after she'd dropped Vel off at the Academy, Sage had called and goaded her into this silly competition: could he hijack a ship faster than she could catch a pirate named Costa Enoch. Of course, Razia found her bounty first, but the next week, Sage bet her that he could hijack another ship before she found another bounty, and thus ensued almost six straight universal weeks of friendly competition. She wasn't really sure why she still engaged with him, but it was nice to have someone to talk to—even if it was Sage.

  "Have you registered to vote yet?" Sage asked, leaning back. "Fulfill your civic duty?"

  "I believe my mother usually votes for me," Razia said. "Not as if there’s much to vote for in this election."

  "Great Creator in Leveman’s Vortex, you’re such a pessimist," he laughed.

  "What?" she said, lazily strolling down the street talking to him on her mini-computer. "Nobody cares about politics."

  "Hey now, some of us do," he interrupted. "I happen to be a registered member of the Conservative party."

  "Conservative party?" She snorted. "What kind of...you...conservative?"

  "I happen to agree with most of what they stand for," he scoffed. "I only suppose you’re a liberal."

  She rolled her eyes. "You don’t know the first thing about politics."

  "I don’t understand how you can possibly want to re-elect President Llendo," he muttered.

  "Yeah, he’s a moron who still has his assistants tie his shoes," she retorted, "but have you heard of some of the things that General State wants to do with the Universal Council?"

  "General State wants to give the president’s office more power to get more things done, and he wants to crack down on those who perpetrate violent crimes."

  "Yeah, and Jukin works for him, so you know he's going to give him the go-ahead to round up all the pirates."

  "State presided over Jukin's disciplinary hearing," Sage reminded her. Not as if she needed reminding of that terrible episode. "He knows piracy isn't that big of a deal. There are more important things to throw people in jail for."

  "We don't need any more idiots like Jukin running around," Razia mumbled, glancing up at the ivory tower of the Universal Police headquarters on D-882. It was glinting rather pretentiously in the early morning sun, as if daring the desert planet to sully the pristine surface.

  "So how's your other brother doing?"

  "I dunno," Razia said, her eyes still on the large tower.

  "Aww," Sage cooed annoyingly. "Do you miss your little buddy?"

  "Shut up," Razia snapped, reminded, yet again, that her "little buddy" hadn't called nor messaged in over a week. Maybe he didn't miss her the way she was definitely not missing him.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "It's no use lying to me," Sage pressed. "I can tell when something is—"

  She abruptly ended the call, pleased with the silence instead of Sage's incessant condescension. She paused, looking around the empty streets covered in the familiar orange tint from the dusty, desert planet. She supposed she could start hunting another bounty, since she was here, and maybe grab another couple thousand credits. But the idea seemed unappealing to her at the moment.

  Her eyes swept up to the U-POL tower again, and her thoughts drifted to her eldest brother. She wondered if he was up there in his ivory tower, already hard at work in a futile attempt to arrest every last pirate in the city below him.

  It probably drove him insane.

  She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking to the nearest shuttle station, her mind shifting to a faraway planet that she thought she might excavate. She had to sell a minimum of three a quarter anyway, so she felt it was probably time to don her lab coat and glasses.

  And it had nothing to do with wanting to see Vel again.

  ***

  A few days later, Dr. Lyssa Peate walked through the sterile hallways of the Planetary and System Science Academy. Her hair was pulled back into her signature bun, and her black, thick-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose. Her lab coat billowed behind her, seemingly out of place in the hallway filled with students ranging from tiny pre-teens slouching under the weight of their books to burly eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds, many of whom eyed the young kids with mischievous smiles.

  Lyssa had spent some part of ages eleven through eighteen here, when Tauron, her pirate mentor, forced her to attend lessons. For as much as she hated it here at the time, she felt a twinge of nostalgia at the hall of classrooms. She paused by one room, spying a rather obnoxious professor who taught a class in ethics. He'd never let her skip, no matter how much she protested that "certain famous scientists" needed her, which was her regular excuse to get out of attending boring classes. He didn't seem to recognize her, but it wasn't as if she wanted to talk to him anyway. She recalled a rather lengthy discussion on the ethics of using Leveman's Vortex as a dumping ground for unwanted space junk and was in no mood to continue it some six years later.

  She continued walking down the hallway, turned a corner and spied a large screen on the wall displaying announcements for clubs, reselling text books, and advertising study groups. Her mind wandered to the last time she'd been in a hall like this, when the announcements abruptly stopped, displaying a newscaster.

  "Pirate Tauron Ball was captured today by Captain Jukin Peate's Special Forces in a surprise move. We are hearing that the execution is imminent. Now going to the live feed on D-882…"

  A line of men stood on a platform, a corresponding noose behind them. She recognized the form of every man: Wade Baarda, who showed her how to throw a punch and took pleasure in showing her how terrible she was at it. Oskari Attenburg, who taught her to code applications and helped her rebuild her father's instruments. Stephanus Boveri, who complained about her laundry and cooking skills, but beat the crap out of a barfly who dared make a sexist comment about her. Elias Bohmer, Fredric Tivoli, Sigsteinn Aita—new hires on the crew, who had taken to picking on her like she was their annoying little sister.

  And Tauron Ball—the man who took her in when no one else wanted her, who gave her a home when she had no where else to go. The man who had promised her that when she finished her last class, he would call Dissident and get her into the pirate web, so she could be the kind of bounty hunter that he'd always made her feel she could be. The only person who believed in her. The only person who ever made her feel she was worth something.

  "And now they've placed the hood on the first pirate now."

  "Oy, move it!"

  Someone roughly bumped into her, snapping her from her memory. The short blonde hair would have been enough to recognize his lineage, but the sneering scowl definitively placed him as one of her twenty-four Peate siblin
gs.

  "Hey whatever-your-name-is," she said, feeling no shame that she had no idea what his name was. "Where's Vel?"

  "I don't know," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now gerrof!"

  "What's the magic word?" Lyssa smiled, and, unable to resist digging the knife in a little deeper, added, "I know your nanny taught you some manners."

  "Yeah, it's just a shame that you never learned how to be a lady," her brother snarled back, ripping his arm out of her hand. Lyssa let him walk away, as a lady was never something she aspired to be in the first place.

  She headed down to the dormitories, found in the very lowest levels of the Academy space station. They always reminded Lyssa of a prison, long rows of barren doors leading to boxed rooms of the same size and shape, holding two DSE candidates. Luckily for Lyssa, students were housed together based on year, and each door held a placard with the names of the occupants. It took her some time to find the right level, but finally she stood in front of the door labeled V. Peate.

  She knocked on the door and waited, amused at her own excitement to see him again. He'd really grown on her, it would seem (not that she'd ever admit that to him).

  When he didn't answer, she knocked harder and waited, wondering if he was asleep. When he didn't answer a second time, she decided he wasn't in. Never one to be deterred by locked doors, she pulled a universal key out of her pocket and jammed it into the door. As a bounty hunter, she rarely needed to break into anything, but having some pirate skills was useful. The key molded itself into the lock, and she twisted and turned it until it softly clicked open.

  The room was empty, as she expected. One side of the room was covered in posters of rock groups and naked women, and the other was devoid of personality. A bunk bed was pushed against the far wall, both beds a mess, but the upper bunk had the familiar Peate-provided bedding that she had been sent to the Academy with; one of the only things she'd been sent with.